


Fade

by orphan_account



Series: Fade [1]
Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Anxiety Attacks, Awkwardness, Bottom Thomas, Bullying, Child Abuse, Coming Out, Depressed Thomas, Depression, Dialogue Heavy, Don't Like Don't Read, Dork Thomas, Eating Disorders, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, First Crush, First Time, Flirting, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Thomas, Insecurity, Love Confessions, Love at First Sight, M/M, Nightmares, Not What It Looks Like, OTP Feels, Oblivious Thomas, Oh My God, Out of Character, Physical Abuse, Please Don't Kill Me, Poor Thomas, Protective Newt, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Sleep Deprivation, Sorry Not Sorry, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Thomas Has Issues, Time Skips, Top Newt, Triggers, Trust Issues, Violence, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-10 18:33:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5596471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt had always wondered about the brunet in his class. He never spoke, and no one ever asked him to. He never participated in group activities, and always sat at the back right desk in every single class. At first, Newt thought he was only shy, or hated people in general. He intervened a few times, asked about it, but the brunet brushed him off and walked away. But one day, Newt realized something, and suddenly he became very protective of the teen he barely knew.</p><p>Thomas wasn't cared for by anyone. That is, until he met Newt. The blond cared for him in a way no one ever had. And so Thomas spilled everything he'd ever been through. Every day, Thomas would make sure to ask if Newt really was going to stay. And every day, Newt said he would. Then, Thomas found himself to be in love with the blond. Only after a day, too. It was love at first sight. So Thomas made a deal with himself, because one day was far too short. Last until the end of the school year without screwing everything up, and then he can confess his love.</p><p>Though, it seemed waiting six months wasn't very necessary when a bad event happens that brings the two closer than ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Notice Me

**Author's Note:**

> Lots of triggers in this story. Beware. Also, the teachers and parents' names are made up.
> 
> Names of teachers/parents (For mine and reader reference)  
> Math - Mr. Jackson  
> Science - Mr. Brooks  
> Social Studies - Ms. Thompson  
> Reading/English/Literature - Mrs. Collins  
> Electives/Other - Unnamed  
> Thomas' Dad - William/Bill  
> Thomas' Deceased Mother - Jenna  
> Thomas' Dad's Girlfriend - Aubrey  
> Newt's Dad - Brian  
> Newt's Mother - Kelli

Thomas woke up to the sound of his alarm, same as any morning. He shut it off, groaning as he got out of the comfort of his bed. But even then, sleep was not a sanctuary; nightmares still plagued him every single night. He left his light off, using nothing but a flashlight to see in the darkness of his room. The sun hadn't risen yet. Thomas was always sure to leave his house before sunrise. If he didn't, he'd end up with a set of new bruises.

He pulled on some jeans and a sky-blue T-shirt, and a grey hoodie, before slinging his backpack over his shoulder. He flicked his flashlight off and tossed it back under his bed. Thomas opened his window and swung his legs over before jumping down. His house was only one story tall. After all, it only had two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a combined living room and kitchen. Quickly, Thomas faded into the woods behind his house, taking the shortcut to his school.

The brunet arrived at his school half an hour earlier than the start of first period, but that gave him enough time to sit outside and finish his homework. Usually he passed out too early to finish it all, or he stayed up too late doing it and slacked off in class. Not that he really cared, his grades weren't getting him anywhere and besides, he usually couldn't bring himself higher than a C-. He breezed through math, barely looking at the questions. His social studies homework was somewhere at home most likely. He probably left it on his desk after he passed out.

Soon enough all the students began pulling into the parking lot, and Thomas gathered his items and tucked them into his backpack. He entered the school, walking through the halls to his first period, science. He ducked his head from the other kids and went to his seat in the back. He put his backpack next to his desk and sat down, keeping his head ducked. Thomas made sure not to make eye contact with any of the students, but he heard their whispers.

"Hey, look, it's Thomas."

"What's wrong, Thomas? Cat got your tongue?"

"It's stick-boy."

Just when the taunts were beginning to be too much, the teacher, Mr. Brooks, walked in. He hushed the students and began collecting homework. Thomas pulled his out of his backpack and put it on his desk before putting his head down again. Eventually the teacher had collected all the homework and placed the stack on his desk. He began reviewing the subjects for the upcoming test, but Thomas didn't bother listening. He stared at the teacher, but didn't hear words. It went in one ear and out the other.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw another student watching him. The kid was tall and had blond hair. For some reason, this kid had taken an interest in Thomas. Thomas ignored him. He'd gotten used to the staring from kids, but that didn't mean he liked it. Instead he focused on the worksheet they'd received, trying his hardest to block out the whispers that still echoed in his mind.

Finally, after a long hour or so, science class was over. Onto social studies. Thomas gathered his things and left the class, heading for his locker. As he was putting his science books away, a big, muscly kid shoved him down. His papers scattered, and Thomas fell over. A few laughs erupted from the students. Thomas didn't bother looking at the kid who'd pushed him down and focused on gathering his papers.

"You gonna look at me or not?" the kid said, and Thomas couldn't help but look up and realize how tall the kid was.

"Leave me alone," Thomas mumbled, standing up and brushing himself off. He grabbed his social studies books and tucked his papers under the cover of one of them. He closed his locker.

"Why should I?" The kid was pretty intimidating, and Thomas didn't answer. He looked to the floor and stayed quiet.

The kid pushed Thomas again, but Thomas managed to keep his balance and only staggered backwards a little bit. "Answer me!" the bully growled.

"Leave me alone!" Thomas repeated, trying to sound angry. It came out like a plea. More laughter. A few names came out from the crowd around Thomas.

"What a bitch, can't even stand up for himself!"

"Poor little baby, does he need a pacifier?"

"Go on, cry, Thomas," one kid said. "We all know you're a baby."

Thomas' eyes burned, but he kept the tears at bay. He pushed through the crowd, and once he was free, he began running. He ran and ran, pushing through students and even knocking a few over. He ran into the bathroom, dropping his backpack by the door and rushing into a stall. He locked it and sat in the corner, pulling his knees to his chest. It was then that the tears rushed out, and Thomas didn't even bother hiding it. He cried so hard he could barely breathe.

It was obvious there was something wrong with him. If there wasn't, the kids wouldn't treat him that way. They wouldn't push him down in the hallways and they wouldn't laugh at him. Thomas just wished he could fit in. He wished he had friends. He wanted to be normal. Thomas wanted to be able to laugh and to be able to have a normal life. But all he could do was cry about it, because everyone was right. He was a baby.

They were right. He couldn't stand up for himself. He couldn't do anything right. His life had no purpose. He was a screw up. A mistake. That's what his dad always called him. "A fuckin' worthless mistake, that's what you are, Thomas." And the worst part? His dad was right. He was worthless. There was no point, was there? He stayed there, his knees to his chest. He heard a few other people come in, and silenced his cries.

"I think he ran in here," one said.

"Thomas? Are you alright?" It was his science teacher. Relief flooded Thomas' body. He thought it was going to be Gally or one other bully.

Thomas brought himself to his feet, calmed himself, and opened the stall door. Both teachers' faces were worried.

"Are you okay?" the other - his math teacher, Mr. Jackson - asked.

"Fine," Thomas lied with a steady voice. "I'm completely fine."

"We won't push you, but if you need to talk we're here," Mr. Brooks said.

Thomas nodded briefly before pushing past them. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and headed towards math. He'd missed an entire period. At least that gave him a chance to get his social studies homework done. He didn't care about his grades, but the embarrassment of not having his homework wasn't something enjoyable.

He entered the class just as the bell rang, and he walked to his seat and pulled out his math homework he'd finished earlier that morning. He also pulled out two of his math books, and a pencil. The math teacher came back in from where he'd found Thomas and eyed the brunet worryingly. Thomas nodded, plastering a fake smile on his face. His hoodie hid his bruises and scars and his smile hid his pain. The teacher nodded in return before turning to the class.

"Alright, class, turn your math books to page 72 and begin reading while I come around and collect homework," Jackson spoke. There was a lot of paper-on-paper noise as pages turned and sheets were collected.

When Mr. Jackson reached Thomas, he lowered his voice to a whisper. "Are you sure you're alright, Thomas? Ms. Thompson told me you missed her class, and a few students reported to her that you'd run into the bathroom and they'd never seen you come out."

Thomas made his voice calm and steady. "I'm fine, Mr. Jackson, don't worry about me." Thomas could only wish that was the truth.

"Alright, Thomas. But if you need anything, any of us teachers are all willing to listen." Mr. Jackson smiled, collected his homework, and returned to his desk.

Thomas looked around the classroom and noticed that same blond kid watching him with worry on his face. This was a first. Thomas quickly averted his eyes, trying once more to ignore the kid. He focused on his math book, but he didn't see words. Everything blurred together and it wasn't until the bell rang that Thomas realized he'd fallen asleep. And Mr. Jackson hadn't cared. A second first.

With a yawn, Thomas gathered his books and papers and put them in his backpack. He started to follow the rest of the students out of the classroom, lingering behind them. A hand grabbed his arm and Thomas yelped, yanking his arm away. He turned around and saw Mr. Jackson standing there. Thomas rubbed his arm nervously.

"I let you sleep because - not to be rude - it looks like you've been lacking. You look pretty tired, Thomas. Go home. I'll let your teachers know, alright?" Mr. Jackson offered.

Home was the last place Thomas wanted to be, but any excuse to get out of school was worth it. "Alright, thanks, Mr. Jackson," Thomas agreed before adjusting his backpack on his shoulders and walking out of the classroom.

He headed for the exit, but the blond boy stepped in front of him. "Hey, um, Thomas right?" the blond kid asked. He had a thick British accent.

"Um, yeah," Thomas said.

"Well, I don't mean to sound creepy, but are you okay?" he questioned.

"Why is everyone asking me that?" Thomas groaned in frustration. "I'm fine. I've said it like thirty times today!" Thomas folded his arms in annoyance and pushed past the blond kid.

"Sorry!" the kid called after him as he pushed open the doors to the school.

Thomas was tired of their fake sympathy. How could they care about a freak like him? Why would they care? That was the proper question. It was probably one of Thomas' most asked questions. Why- why would they care? Why is he here? Why him?

Thomas didn't go home. Instead he just sat outside the school. At home, his drunken father would hit him a few times before leaving, or, if things were worse, kick him and verbally abuse him. And on the rare occasion, sometimes Thomas' father had gotten so drunk that he'd sexually assaulted Thomas. Thomas shuddered, pushing the thoughts out of his mind. Thomas laid down, using his backpack as a pillow, and allowed himself to sleep.

* * *

_It was dark. There was nothing but pure blackness. Thomas could still see, though he wasn't sure how. There was no source of light coming from anywhere. He was standing on nothing. Literally; there was nothing under his feet but somehow he managed to stand. Then the voices came.  
_

_"What a bitch, he can't even stand up for himself!"_

_"Go ahead, Thomas, cry. We all know you're a baby."_

_"You're nothing, Thomas. You were a mistake. If there was one thing I'd do with my past, I would make sure I'd never made the worst mistake of my life: you."_

_Thomas curled in on himself, covering his ears. This only made the voices louder, though._

_"You know, Thomas, I'm sure no one would care if you killed yourself. You'd actually be doing everyone a favor."_

_"Stop!" Thomas cried, the tears rushing like waterfalls. "Go away! Leave me alone!"_

_"What a pussy. Is that all you got?"_

_Then something changed. The setting was in his bedroom. His dream self reached under his bed and pulled out a pistol. His dream self put the barrel next to his temple and didn't even think. A shot rang out and-_

* * *

 

Thomas awoke to the sun shining on his face and a few kids gathered around him. Other kids were driving away in their cars. He'd slept through the entire school day. The kids were pointing and laughing.

"Look, Thomas is crying!" one laughed.

"Aw, poor little guy. Must've had a nightmare!" another taunted.

Thomas stood up and put his backpack back on. "Shut up," Thomas mumbled as he pushed through the crowd of kids. One laughed and pushed Thomas down onto the cement. He felt small stings where he'd scraped his palms. More laughter erupted from the kids. All Thomas wondered was 'Why?'

He got up again and ran away, ignoring the name calling from other students. He ran into the woods near his house and climbed into a tree. He sighed heavily, ignoring the sting of dirt in his scrapes. A single tear escaped Thomas' eye, leaving a small wet spot on the branch Thomas was on. Thomas remembered his dream. Remembered the pistol, the _feeling_ of the cold metal against his temple.

They say dreams are signs. They say that dreams are from your subconscious, that dreams have the ability to predict and can portray your issues. Now, Thomas wasn't one to believe. Miracles, supernatural, gods in the sky. It was all fake bullshit to Thomas. Even if there was proof of the truth, Thomas would never believe in miracles, or anything of the sort. Why? Thomas had already seen the worst of the world. He'd been through it all.

From abuse to rape to suicide attempts, he'd been through it all. He was only sixteen, and yet he'd already tried three times to kill himself. Thomas dangled one of his legs off the branch of the tree and rested his back against the trunk. He closed his eyes and willed himself to relax. No one ever found him back here.

Thomas awoke once more just as the sun was starting to set. His muscles were stiff from being still for so long, and part of him wondered how he'd managed to sleep for three hours without falling. The other part wished he'd fallen and fatally broken his neck. Thomas climbed out of the tree and decided it was okay to go home. Chances are, his asshat of a dad would be out at a bar with Aubrey, or one of his friends.

Everything had been fine when Thomas' mother, Jenna, was alive. His father was most certainly sober, and they were like any other family. But then his mother died, and Thomas' father began drinking. They moved towns, and of course, being the 'new' kid who'd always had bruises, Thomas was picked on. Soon that picking on turned to bullying and over the course of three years, Thomas ended up more broken than he could ever imagine.

Thomas climbed back through his window, which was still open, and dropped his backpack on the floor. He closed his window as quietly as he could, being cautious because there was still the odd chance that William was still home. Thomas rarely referred to his father as 'Dad'. It was always his name, because Thomas saw the man as a bully more than a parent.

Thomas crept over to his door and pressed his ear against it, straining to hear any sign of William. Nothing except silence. Slowly, he opened his door just a peek. All the lights were off. Thomas opened the door all the way and silently moved through the house; years of fear had taught him to be silent. He looked out to the driveway and William's car was gone, as was Aubrey's. They were gone. Thomas was safe.

Thomas decided the house needed a clean. Though it'd only been a week since he'd cleaned it, there were already hundreds of beer cans on the ground and empty pizza boxes. Just trash in general. Thomas grabbed a white trash bag and collected all the boxes, cans, and other trash such as chip bags, losing lottery scratch offs, anything his father was too lazy to clean up. Thomas took the bag out to the trash, then went back inside.

Thomas proceeded to clean the bathroom, toilet and all. Then he cleaned the kitchen, hand-washed every single dish, and wiped down the counters. He cleaned out the fridge; everything in it had gone bad since Thomas rarely ate and his father always ordered pizza. He organized the bookshelf in the living room and dusted all the pictures. He sorted the movie case, and cleaned his own room as well.

He gathered all of the dirty laundry. A few shirts and some jeans from his room, lots of socks and dirty shirts that his father had left out. He put all the laundry into the washing machine and took the clean stuff out of the dryer, folded it all, and put it away. He vacuumed the carpet in his room and the living room and swept the tile in the kitchen and bathroom. Thomas saved William's room for last, as it was usually the worst. He opened the door, prepared with a vacuum, trash bags, and cleaning supplies. He put all the laundry in his father's laundry bin.

Another bag was filled with beer cans and pizza boxes. Thomas made his father's bed, dusted everything in the room, and vacuumed the room. He also made sure to spray air freshener throughout the house as his dad usually stunk of beer and, well, more beer. He moved the first load into the dryer and put his father's load on, then put all the supplies away; the duster, the vacuum.

Thomas had done all this in just under two hours. The clock read 8:47 PM. Thomas still had time to do his homework. His father wasn't home until midnight, and when he came home, he usually liked to see Thomas asleep. So Thomas went to his room and grabbed the two sheets of science homework he'd received, considering he'd been dismissed early. He made sure he did both those and his social studies homework. Once he did those things as well as studied, it was still only 10:30 PM.

Thomas himself needed a shower, so after folding the second set of laundry and putting those away, he put William's load in to dry. He then gathered a T-shirt, sweat pants, and underwear and turned on a warm shower. Thomas watched as the dirt washed off of himself before putting some shampoo in his hair then rinsing it out. His wet hair stuck to his forehead, and yet Thomas allowed himself to stand there.

He allowed himself to _remember._ Remembering was something Thomas never did. It was always forget. He never remembered anything. He willed himself to just drift through life without giving a fuck. But Thomas remembered. He remembered everything. The first day after his mother died, when his father was silent. Then the second, when he brought home a case of beer. Then another. And another.

Then came the third, when William first hit Thomas. Then months passed, and they moved to a new town. Then came the verbal abuse from his father and the other students. Both soon became physical. Then, one night when he was fifteen, his father sexually assaulted Thomas. That's when the big wall Thomas had built around himself that shielded him from his emotions broke down, and he broke with it.

And now, after three years, people are starting to care. Like Mr. Jackson and that blond kid. Mr. Jackson usually was the one to pick on Thomas. Why was he suddenly being nice? Did he see the wrong in his actions? Was he finally starting to see that Thomas tried so hard to rebuild himself only to be crushed by a new problem? And, for the second time that day, Thomas cried.

It was unfair. He was broken, his life didn't matter. The world was a fake. And he thought about it, thought hard, what if? Maybe ending it would be better, like the voice in his dream said. Maybe he should get that pistol from under his bed and shoot himself with it. But Thomas was terrified. There was no sanctuary, he was sure, not even in death. But Thomas thought, as the tears fell, maybe he'd rather go six feet under instead of deal with this every day.

And so Thomas turned off the shower, dried off, brushed his teeth, got dressed. He was still crying, this much he could tell through the numb emptiness that was overtaking him. The desperation not to feel anything anymore was strong. The clock read 11:23 PM. Still half an hour left. Sleep would bring a whole other world of pain, and staying awake would be the same, pain. That's what it always was.

Thomas never learned to endure the pain. He only learned how to make room for it. But he only had so much room before it became too much. His eyes darted to the small glint of the pistol under his bed. He'd stolen it from his father to protect himself from his father, but there was nothing he could do to protect himself from himself. And, just like in his dream, Thomas pulled the pistol out from under his bed.

It was cold in his hand, just like he imagined. His heart pounded in his chest. He'd never come this close to certainty. Usually it was an attempted overdose. He thought overdosing would be less painful, but three times he's tried and three times he's failed. Thomas was sobbing now. Everything he'd ever felt came out in a rush of tears. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. He threw the gun back under his bed and turned off his light. Thomas climbed into bed and cried himself to sleep.

And for once, the nightmares didn't come.


	2. A Light in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt decides to look into Thomas' issue. Quickly, he learns that something is wrong, and he begins to worry further for the teen that's more broken than he ever expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much love from the first chapter! Wow, thanks guys. I'll try to update this daily because let's face it; I'm completely addicted to writing, and it's still winter break and I have time. I'm not enrolled in my new school yet and I'm not sure when or if I even will be because we're moving. I haven't been in a while due to family problems but things are looking up. If I do end up enrolling in school, I'll probably change it to two-four days in between chapters. I wish you all a Happy New Year! 
> 
> And the way dodge-ball is played in here is how we play it at my school. It's all I know. The end also hints at a growing Newtmas relationship ;)

Thomas awoke to his alarm again and quickly shut it off. Even though William was usually such a heavy sleeper that a nuclear bomb wouldn't wake him up, Thomas still didn't want to take the risk. He fished around under his bed for his flashlight again, ignoring the cold pistol that still remained. Thomas looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was coming in and moved the pistol into his bedside table drawer.

William hated it when his guns went missing, and even though Thomas had stolen the pistol two years ago, his father still went on about how it was his 'favorite'. Thomas knew his father would check to see if Thomas was still home, and Thomas didn't want to take the risk of his father finding it, even though he'd managed to keep it under his bed safely for two years.

Another reason was because he hated looking at the damn thing, it always seemed to bring on the memories and the pain every time he looked at it. Sure, the thoughts would always be there, because he knew he was never going to get better. But that didn't mean he couldn't try to make them a little quieter. Thomas picked out a new pair of jeans and a black long-sleeve shirt this time, and changed his clothes. He made sure all of his homework was in his backpack before putting it over his shoulder and throwing the flashlight back to its place.

Thomas climbed out his window, same as every day. He left it open, only because leaving it closed meant making noise when he returned. He went through the woods again, but took his time since he didn't have any spare homework to do. He arrived at school just as the other students were, and he tried hard to keep himself hidden. After last night's episode, Thomas really didn't think he could take any more.

Trying not to rush into the school but also trying not to be too slow, Thomas managed to make it to his first period class without an issue. He pulled out his homework and put it on his desk. He was still tired, but not as tired as he usually was. For once, the nightmares didn't come and he slept through the night without waking up. Something he hadn't done since the time he liked to call 'Before'.

Once Mr. Brooks had collected all the homework, he continued reviewing from where they left off yesterday. Thomas opened his science book to the correct page but didn't really pay it much attention. Instead, he still wondered about that blond kid from yesterday. Sure, Mr. Jackson's sudden attitude change was a bit strange, but no kid had ever paid Thomas any attention. Thomas found it a bit unsettling, and he wasn't sure why.

Thomas stole a glance at the British boy. He never did get his name. The kid was focusing on his work, something Thomas _should_ be doing. Science was never one of his interests, but he turned back to the book anyway. Slowly, the class passed, and eventually the bell rang. Thomas collected his homework, thankful that there was a decent amount tonight. Thomas didn't like homework, he hated it, but it gave his mind something to do, and he was thankful for that.

The teen exited science class and walked to his locker. There was no one there to push him around, thankfully. But Thomas knew his luck wouldn't be this great; he'd get pushed down sooner or later. He put his science books away and grabbed his social studies books. Someone tapped his shoulder. Thomas jumped, accidentally dropping his books. Thomas turned to see the blond boy again. Thomas was just relieved that it wasn't a surprise punch to the face.

"Sorry for scaring you," the blond kid apologized. "I just wanted to say sorry for frustrating you yesterday."

Thomas gathered his books. "It's alright. Yesterday just wasn't the best of days," he said. Thomas wanted to get away from this kid, but he didn't want to seem rude. After all, this was his first apology from anyone. And though he knew this kid was innocent, something in his gut told him to run. He used all of his willpower to stay still.

"Yeah, I saw those kids messing with you after school yesterday. By the time I managed to make it over there, they'd split up and you were already across the street," the British kid spoke.

Thomas was stunned, and it took him a moment to get the surprised look off of his face. "You wanted to help me?"

Before the kid had a chance to answer, the bell rang. "Um, I gotta get to class. See you later?" he asked.

"Okay," was all Thomas could manage. The kid smiled at him before he set off across the hall. "Hey!" Thomas called, after finding his voice. The kid looked over his shoulder. "What's your name?"

"Newt," the British boy said before turning and going into social studies.

Thomas found himself feeling a bit lighter after the conversation with Newt. He headed off to social studies and turned in his late homework. Ms. Thompson smiled at him lightly before Thomas turned and went to his seat. Thomas pulled out his social studies books and opened one to whatever page they were on. Thomas was lost in his thoughts. He was still stunned that someone besides his teachers had actually _smiled_ at him, and not mockingly, either.

There was no homework for social studies that day, and soon enough the bell rang and the kids shuffled out of social studies. Thomas switched his books again and turned around. Just as he did so, someone smashed a raw egg into his hair and ran away. The kids that saw it happen all pointed and laughed.

"Leave him alone!" Thomas heard Newt yell from down the hall. Newt came up to some of the kids. "Don't you have anything better to be doing?"

One kid snickered. "No, not really."

Newt was taller than the kid and easily made himself look intimidating. "I can give you something to do," he warned. With that, the kids all scattered, returning to whatever the hell they were doing before.

Thomas was shocked. Newt scared the kids off! "T-thanks," Thomas stammered, unsure of what to do next.

"Don't mention it. Try not to think too hard about them," Newt replied, gesturing to the other students. "It can mess you up."

Oh, but Newt didn't know that it already had. "Uh, yeah," Thomas murmured. "I should really do something about this before it dries..."

"Oh! Um, I can help if you'd like?" Newt offered.

Thomas went a little red. "U-um, no, t-that's okay. I got it," he stuttered, a bit embarrassed and panicking on the inside just a little bit.

"Oh, yeah, sure," Newt nodded quickly. An awkward silence settled between the two. After a while, Newt finally spoke. "Well I guess I'll just tell Mr. Jackson you'll be running a little late..."

"Y-yeah, okay. Bye, Newt," Thomas said, turning around and walking to the bathroom. He dropped his backpack by the doorway again and went to the sink.

Thomas hadn't really looked in the mirror for a while and he looked worse than he expected, even without egg in his hair. He had dark purple under his eyes from lack of sleep and his hair was a mess. There were a few bruises on the sides of his head from where his father had hit him three days ago. Thomas wasn't sure how to go about getting egg out of his hair. This was a first. He settled on letting the faucet water run directly into his hair.

It took a while, but eventually all of the egg had finally gotten out of his hair. Thomas turned off the water and dried his hair with paper towels. It remained a bit damp, but it would air dry eventually. Thomas sighed and found it quite depressing how doing things like this were part of his daily life. He found it unfair. He left the bathroom and slung his backpack back over his shoulder.

Thomas went into math, and he was only around fifteen to twenty minutes late. Mr. Jackson nodded at him and handed him the worksheet. Thomas went to his seat. He glanced at Newt across the room and mouthed a silent 'Thank you'. Newt smiled lightly and nodded before turning back to his paper. Thomas pulled out a pencil and begin working on his own, putting a bit of effort into it for real this time. Though he was sure the highest he'd get would be around a seventy.

The bell rang, and Thomas put his stuff away. He turned in his worksheet and was just about to leave for lunch when Newt came up to him.

"Hey, uh, Thomas, do you wanna sit at lunch with me?" Newt asked, a bit unsure.

Thomas' breath caught in his throat. Usually he sat alone, and usually he didn't eat anything at all. But he gave Newt a chance. "Sure," Thomas managed a smile, though he knew it seemed pretty forced.

Newt nodded. "Come on, then," he smiled in return, not noticing how forced Thomas' smile actually was. Thomas was good at fooling people.

"Okay," Thomas agreed, following Newt into the lunchroom. Thomas wanted to cover his nose or run out of the room. "I usually sit over there," Thomas said, pointing to a table far from the other kids.

"Alright, if that's where you want to go," Newt smiled gently, and the two went and put their backpacks at the table.

"I'll um, wait here, okay? I'm not that hungry," Thomas lied. Truth was, he was starving, but eating only meant he'd have to throw it up later.

"'You sure? I can get you something if you don't have lunch money," Newt said.

Thomas sighed. There really was no point. He was tired. "Alright."

"What do you want?" Newt asked.

"Just...a slice of pizza. Maybe a drink?" Thomas mumbled nervously.

Newt smiled again, "Alright. Wait here." With that, he went off into the lunch line.

Thomas wondered why Newt would be so nice to him. Why was Newt defending him? After all, Thomas was practically a stranger to Newt. They'd never met until yesterday, when Newt had stopped him in the hallway. Thomas had acknowledged the British boy, seen him around. But he never actually talked to him. What made Newt suddenly start talking to him?

A dark idea made its way into Thomas' mind. What if Gally had gotten Newt to pretend, make Thomas fall for it? What if after that happened, Newt would only go off, just to mess Thomas up even more? The thought made Thomas sick. Thomas knew he was being irrational, that the chances of that were slim. But still, Thomas was unsure, and he felt like he was going to throw up.

Newt came back holding his lunch, and a slice of pizza for Thomas. He set the pizza down in front of Thomas, as well as a bottle of water.

"I wasn't sure what you wanted to drink. Is that okay?" Newt asked.

"Fine," Thomas said. "Thank you." And he really meant it.

"Sure thing," Newt grinned. He started eating his lunch. It looked like they were serving hamburgers today.

Thomas stared at his pizza hesitantly. The hunger in his stomach was strong, and he knew that if he didn't eat soon he'd get sick. But the thought of eating was unappealing to Thomas. The brunet noticed Newt eyeing him nervously, so he picked up the pizza and took a bite. Swallowing it was a challenge in itself. Thomas managed to eat half of the slice before lunch was over, which was a huge accomplishment in his eyes.

"Hey," Newt said as they walked out of lunch, "You didn't eat much. Are you alright?

"I'm okay, just had a big breakfast," Thomas lied. Thomas hated lying, especially to Newt. But if Newt saw what Thomas really was, he'd run away and never come back.

"Looks like gym's up next," Newt said.

"Wonder what we're doing," Thomas replied.

"Let's go find out, then," Newt smiled, and the two of them headed off to gym class.

 The duo walked into the gym and dropped their backpacks by the door. A few other kids were already in the gym, others were not too far from coming in. Since it was a Thursday, that meant they didn't have to dress out; Thursday was dodge-ball day. Students could dress out if they wished, but were allowed to keep their normal clothes on. Thomas preferred the latter.

The gym class was divided into two teams, and all the students lined up so the coach assigned them teams. Normally the coach went A-B-A-B meaning one student would go to team A whilst the next would go to team B, and so on and so forth. Thomas and Newt made sure to get in the line in such a way that they'd end up on the same team. After each team had been set up, the coach set the dodge-balls in the middle, between both teams.

The coach blew his whistle and kids raced to get dodge-balls. Soon Thomas was shielding himself from the oncoming wave. Thomas hated Thursdays; they always tried to get Thomas. Not that he really had an issue with it. He usually let himself get out, then he'd have to sit in the bleachers until the next round. Which, to him, was a lot better than throwing foam balls at people.

"Come on, Thomas, aren't you gonna play?" Newt asked, stepping back to keep from getting hit.

"Nah, I usually let myself get out. This game was never much fun," Thomas replied.

"You should get 'em, Thomas. Show 'em who they're messing with," Newt dodged another ball.

Thomas frowned. "That's easier said than done," he said, dodging one as well.

"Aw, come on. I'm sure you can do it. Show them that you aren't the person they think you are," Newt encouraged.

Thomas didn't want to. He couldn't. "I don't want to," Thomas said. "They'll hurt me for it later."

"I won't let them," Newt assured the brunet.

Thomas sighed. "They'll do it after you're gone. They keep me cornered. Please; just don't make me do anything I don't want to."

Newt nodded. "Alright, I'll stop," he spoke.

The bell rang, and Thomas and Newt gathered their things by the gym door. They didn't say much to each other on their way to English; the conversation in the gym left them both hushed and feeling a bit awkward. They both walked into Mrs. Collins' class, and Thomas went to his seat in the far back. Newt glanced at him before taking his own seat. Thomas' yawned, he was feeling a bit tired. He put his head down and quickly fell asleep without knowing.

Thomas woke up halfway through the class. They were reading a book, and Thomas wondered how he'd managed to stay asleep for so long without getting caught. Thomas opened his own book, and he managed to find the spot they were on. Thomas didn't pay attention to what the book was about. He barely listened in English; it was the most boring of classes in Thomas' opinion.

The bell finally rang after what seemed like an eternity. Thomas gathered his things for thankfully the last time of the day. School was out and that meant Thomas could sleep somewhere in the woods. Or if he was lucky, his father would be gone early, or asleep. If he was asleep, Thomas could stay in his room since he'd cleaned the house yesterday. He put his English books away and adjusted his backpack on his shoulders.

Thomas had stopped briefly to look for Newt but he realized the blond had probably already left. Thomas made sure he had everything in his backpack when he noticed a small paper sticking out. He pulled it out and unfolded it, his cheeks turning a faint red upon realizing it was from Newt. It read:

_Tommy_

_Hey, you didn't say much on the way back from gym, did I offend you? Really bloody sorry if I did. I'll be waiting for you outside, 'kay, shank?_

_Newt_

Thomas smiled to himself. Really, truly smiled. He could just imagine Newt saying that, with that accent of his. He shoved the note into his pocket and put his backpack on again, and started back towards the door. He pushed open the doors and saw Newt leaning against the wall. He ducked his head a bit before heading over to him.

"I take it you got my letter?" Newt grinned.

"Yeah, I did. One thing though- what's with the nickname?" Thomas smiled slightly; he was starting to find that he was comfortable around Newt, and with each minute, it became truer.

"It's my nickname for you, and it's sticking," Newt laughed. "You doing anything today?"

"Not really," Thomas said, "I mean, home isn't really an option-" Thomas slammed a hand over his mouth. He could feel his heart pounding; Newt was going to ask why not. And if he asked why not, Thomas would have to say why not. Then Newt would call Thomas a freak and leave.

Newt's forehead creased with worry again. "Hey, is there something wrong? You can tell me, I'll believe you. I'm not like those other shanks."

Thomas fidgeted with his thumbs a little bit. He looked up at Newt through his bangs. "Promise?" he whispered, sounding like a seven year old who believed in something as stupid as a promise.

"I promise, Tommy. I just want to know if anything's wrong, that way I can try to help," Newt assured the brunet.

Thomas nodded, and he looked to the ground. "My dad. H-he's..." - Thomas could feel his eyes stinging and he could feel the words get stuck in his throat. "H-he hurts me," Thomas whispered.

Thomas heard a small gasp from Newt before suddenly the blond pulled Thomas into his embrace. Normally Thomas would flinch away or freak out but there was something that told him to stay. Thomas willed himself to relax into Newt's embrace, and Newt didn't pull away. He didn't run away or call Thomas a freak. Newt really did care, he really wasn't like the other kids.

Then Thomas found himself crying, sobbing and gasping for breath. Newt didn't leave when he was breaking down, he only sat on the ground and pulled Thomas into his lap. Thomas melted into Newt's embrace, he'd gone so long without true contact. Any contact he'd had in the past three years left him with a new mark on his body. Thomas' frame shook with each sob he let free.

"It's okay, Tommy," Newt soothed the broken teen. "Is there anything else you want me to know?"

Thomas tried to talk but his breath only shook. He tried forming words but anything he tried to say came out as a useless cry. He felt Newt hold him closer, and Thomas allowed Newt to trace circles on his back. Thomas cried until he couldn't cry anymore, and still, Newt hadn't left.

"There's a lot more," Thomas whimpered, sniffing a little.

"Tell me. I can stay here all day," Newt said comfortingly.

"From the beginning?" Thomas asked quietly.

"Just tell me what you'd like to tell me," Newt answered.

Thomas nodded. "Okay."

And so Thomas told Newt everything, because once he started, he couldn't stop. He told Newt how his mother died, and those first days when his father started the drink. He told Newt that when they moved into this town how everyone picked on him. He told Newt how the picking became bullying and the bullying became physical. By then, Thomas was crying again.

"It's okay, Tommy," Newt said sadly. He'd never realized how truly broken the brunet was.

"I-I want t-to s-show you s-something," Thomas choked out.

"Okay, Tommy," Newt agreed.

Thomas took a few deep breaths before lifting his shirt a little. At least a dozen cuts and bruises were scattered around his torso, and he was thin enough that you could see his ribs.

"Tom-"

Thomas held up a finger to silence the blond. He pulled his shirt back down and pulled up his sleeves. All the way to his elbows, there were cuts, old and new. Some looked recent and some looked weeks old. Thomas stared at the cuts. He wanted to cry again, and a small whimper escaped his lips. He met Newt's eyes.

"I'm s-s-sorry," Thomas whimpered. As soon as the words escaped Thomas' lips, the brunet broke down, clinging to Newt like he was a lifeline. And along with it, Newt's heart shattered out of sadness for the teen. "D-don't g-go," Thomas pleaded. "P-please don't l-leave m-m-me!"

"Tommy," Newt whispered. "I'm not going to leave you. Why would you say that?"

"B-because," Thomas sniffed, "Everyone h-has. I'm a freak. T-that's why everyone hates me."

"Oh, Tommy," Newt sighed. He just wanted to help the teen, but Thomas looked broken beyond repair. "I don't hate you. I'm not going to leave you."

"W-what if t-they l-laugh at you? J-just because you're seen w-with me?"

Newt realized that through it all, Thomas still had a heart twice as big as anyone he'd ever met. Through it all, Newt realized that Thomas was _afraid_ because he didn't want Newt to end up like him. "Let them laugh, Tommy," Newt said with a fierce anger towards the people who'd caused Thomas pain.

"I j-just don't w-want you t-to end up l-like me," Thomas whispered.

"I know, Tommy. Believe me, I know."

And they stayed there, in each other's embrace because Thomas realized that Newt was right.

He was like the light in his dark, dark world.


	3. Fire in My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Newt is blind to Thomas' feelings for him and Thomas doesn't have the guts to outright say it; Secrets are spilled and more is told than originally planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a lot more dialogue than the previous two, a lot of talking between Newt and Thomas.  
> Also I added a second segment to the summary. I left the first part but also added a second.  
> Enjoy~ <3

Thomas couldn't get Newt out of his head. It seemed, ever since he'd showed the blond, Thomas couldn't stop thinking about him. He felt a little lighter now that he finally had someone to tell. Thomas was gathering his things in a duffel bag; Newt had offered for Thomas to stay over for the weekend. He packed two sets of clothes and one set of pajamas, making sure everything had long sleeves.

He also tossed in a comb, tooth brush, and toothpaste. There was nothing left worth taking. Anything else in Thomas' room was either junk or stuff that he hadn't used in years. He zipped up the duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder, climbing back out his window. He'd already gone to school today. It was Friday, and Newt practically forced Thomas to say yes about coming over.

Thomas was just grateful that he had a ticket out of home. Weekends were the worst because he usually had nowhere to go. That meant waiting in fear to see if his father was going to hit him. Thomas headed out to the front of his house because that's where Newt was waiting.

"Hey, Tommy," Newt smiled, "Is that everything you need?"

"Yeah, it is. Just some clothes, the usual," Thomas smiled back, a real smile. It was little, but it was there- and that was good enough for Newt.

"Alright, my house isn't too far away. Only about fifteen minutes," Newt said as he put the bag in the back seat.

Thomas nodded. He felt a bit nervous, in a good way. He climbed into the passenger seat and closed the door. Newt started the car and they both buckled their belts. The blond pulled out of the driveway and started off to his house.

"Hey, Newt...?" Thomas asked, a bit unsettled.

"What is it, Tommy?" Newt questioned. He kept his eyes on the road but he could hear the nervousness in Thomas' voice.

Thomas took a breath. "Your parents won't...hate me, will they?" he whispered.

"No, why would you say that?" Newt frowned.

Thomas looked to his feet. "Well, it's just...if my dad hates me, what makes you think that yours won't hate me too?"

Newt could tell that whatever his father had done to him really messed Thomas up. And he wanted to strangle the guy. "Tommy," Newt said, "Do you think my dad's gonna hit you?"

"No, worse," Thomas said quietly.

This let Newt know that Thomas' dad had done something that Thomas hadn't told him. "Is there something you'd like to tell me?" Newt asked.

"I-I don't know, it's really bad," Thomas mumbled.

"I want to know so I can help you, Tommy. Just like yesterday," Newt replied.

Thomas knew there was no reason not to trust Newt. After all, he'd already told Newt almost everything, and Newt was still here. Thomas took a few deep breaths. "My dad did something horrible to me. I've never told anyone until now." Thomas looked to Newt nervously.

"I won't tell anyone, Tommy," Newt promised. Newt could tell this was really hard for Thomas to say, and he reached over and placed a comforting hand on Thomas' shoulder.

"When I was fifteen," Thomas whispered, flinching at the memory, "my dad assaulted me." Thomas let out a sigh. "Sexually," he added on quietly.

"WHAT?!" Newt yelled, a little too loud.

Thomas flinched and recoiled into the seat. "I'm sorry!" Thomas yelped, hiding his head. "Don't hurt me!"

Newt softened his voice. "I'm not going to hurt you, Tommy. I wasn't yelling at you. I was yelling at- you know what, never mind. Don't be sorry. That kind of stuff is never your fault, okay?"

"Okay," Thomas mumbled, keeping his head hidden. Newt could see he was breathing quickly.

"Hey, hey," Newt said, trying to calm the teen. "Aw, shuck, I'm sorry, Tommy."

"It's okay," Thomas whispered, trying to steady his breathing. "I-I should've expected that reaction anyway."

"I overreacted. I shouldn't have scared you like that." They pull into Newt's driveway and Thomas and Newt get out.

Newt went around and pulled Thomas into a hug. "My parents aren't going to hurt you, Tommy, okay?"

Thomas nodded against Newt's chest, not wanting to let go. "I wasn't scared of you," he said quietly. "I just reacted that way because of habit."

"I know, Tommy. I didn't mean to yell at you. I just wonder," Newt responded.

"What do you wonder?" Thomas asked, reluctantly letting go of Newt and grabbing his duffel bag.

"Well," Newt said, "I just wonder how people can be so mean to you."

Thomas looked to the ground. "Oh," he mumbled. "I don't. I know why they do."

Newt cocked his head. "Why's that, Tommy?"

"Have you even seen me? All of them, they're all right about me. I just wish you could see that," Thomas whimpered.

"They don't even _know_ you, Tommy! How can someone who doesn't even bloody know you be right about you?"

"I could name five things that they're right about, right now, right here," Thomas said sadly.

"Alright- but I can tell you that they're wrong," Newt replied.

"They're right when they say that I'm a baby. They're right when they say that I'm so messed up, not even my dad loves me. They're right when they say that I'm worthless," Thomas took a shaky breath. His eyes stung, but he refused to cry. He'd done enough of that.

"None of those things are true, Tommy," Newt spoke with sad eyes.

"They're right when they say that I can't stand up for myself. And you wanna know what they're the most right about?" Thomas looked at Newt. "They're right when they say I'd do the world a favor by offing myself."

"Tommy! Don't you dare say that!" Newt gasped.

"It's not like anyone would miss me," Thomas muttered.

Newt didn't know what to say. "Tommy, _I_ would miss you. I don't think I'd be able to live with myself if you... _offed_ yourself," the blond ducked his head. "Isn't that enough?"

Thomas looked at Newt. He realized he was causing the blond pain. Newt's pain was practically his pain now. "Yes," Thomas said. It was truer than anything he'd ever said in his entire life. "It's enough."

And it was; Thomas was finding this to be true. So he took his duffel bag and Newt showed him into his house. His parents were still at work, but Newt allowed Thomas to put his things in the guest room. They went to the couch and sat down next to each other, not in the other's personal space but not exactly out of it. Thomas found himself a little nervous - once again, in a good way - to be so _close_ to the blond.

"What's with the look, Tommy?" Newt laughed. "You look like you just fell in love."

Thomas blushed. "Oh, um, nothing," he chuckled nervously. "So, um, what you do you want to do?"

"I don't know," Newt said. "Do you have any homework you need to do?"

"That sounds so cliche, Newt. And no, I don't, not like it matters. My grades aren't getting me anywhere." Thomas snickered.

"What do you mean, cliche!? It's just studying," Newt defended.

"But isn't that in like, every teen high school movie ever? And then the two who are studying end up not really studying and instead they end up falling in love," Thomas pointed out. Hard as he tried not to, he blushed again at the last part.

"Jeez, Tommy. I didn't know you watched love stories!" Newt teased.

"Hey! I do not! You just...hear these things, ya know?" Thomas ducked his head to hide his blush.

"Right," Newt laughed, "You totally do, don't you?"

"No!" Thomas howled, even more embarrassed. "You just love embarrassing me, don't you?" He laughed.

"Well, maybe."

"I gotta admit, though- I don't think I've ever been this comfortable around anyone in a long time," Thomas said.

"I don't blame you," Newt replied. "Shuck, Tommy, had I known it was this bad I would've said something a long time ago."

"But you didn't, okay? Don't blame yourself, please. I don't think I could take that," Thomas whispered.

Newt nodded. "I won't, and I don't. But you gotta stop being so bloody hard on yourself, Tommy. It's not good for you," the blond spoke.

"I try, I really do. But it's a little hard when everyone says that it's my fault," Thomas mumbled.

"I know, Tommy. I can't say I understand what you're going through but I'll try my hardest to help. I'll do everything I can to help you get better," Newt promised.

"I'm not going to get better. I might be able to deal with it eventually, but I'll never get _better._ Not after what's happened to me," Thomas said.

Newt looked at the brunet. He felt sorry for him, and he wanted to do whatever he could to help. Whether or not Thomas would cooperate, that was another problem.

Thomas yawned widely, and Newt noticed that Thomas probably hadn't slept well. "Can I go lay down, Newt?" Thomas whispered, looking as if he were about to pass out.

"If you think you can even get up, sure. Lemme help you," Newt stood by the side, just in case Thomas wasn't able to make it. He wanted to catch him if he were to fall.

Thomas stood up shakily. He knew he was treating himself badly, that proper food and rest would keep him from getting this way. Thomas took a few steps before stumbling. Newt was by his side in an instant.

"Easy, easy. You sure you can get there, Tommy?" Newt asked, a bit worried for the brunet.

"No, not really," Thomas murmured, his voice worn out.

Newt nodded. "Okay, come back to the couch," the blond said.

Thomas did so, and practically let himself fall into the couch. Newt sat next to him, helping him get comfortable. Thomas looked almost half asleep when he spoke up.

"Newt?" Thomas mumbled, his voice a bit slurred with sleep.

"Yeah?"

Thomas' eyes were already closed as he spoke; "Can I put my head in your lap?"

"Sure," Newt said, willing to do anything to let the brunet sleep. Thomas scooted up a little bit, resting his head on Newt's thigh.

Thomas was out within a few seconds. Newt watched him, instinctively stroking his fingers through the teen's hair. Even in sleep, Thomas didn't seem to be at peace, and Newt knew why. Thomas was plagued with nightmares. This much was clear by his small whimpers and twitches.

An hour or two passed, and still, Newt sat there. He wanted to make sure Thomas wasn't alone if he woke up from a nightmare. He wasn't sure why, but the blond felt a strong protectiveness for the brunet. Newt didn't bother fighting it, either. He was sure that, if he did fight it and didn't try to help, it would just mess Thomas up even more. So he stayed.

Thomas whimpered a few times and Newt watched him intently. Then the whimpers turned to cries and Thomas was shaking, mumbling incoherent words through tears.

"Tommy, wake up," Newt said gently, shaking the teen. "Come on, Tommy. It was just a dream."

Thomas awoke with a jump, and his face was wet. He sat up and stared at Newt. "Why did you do that?!" Thomas cried.

"Do what, Tommy?"

"Y-you left me, a-and you were l-laughing at me! Just like e-everyone else! W-why are y-you here?!" Thomas sobbed again.

"Tommy, you were dreaming," Newt assured him. "It was just a bad dream."

"You mean," Thomas sniffed, "You didn't leave me?"

"I've already told you I wouldn't," Newt offered a small smile. "I meant it."

Thomas rubbed his eyes. "You really don't hate me? You don't think I'm a freak? You really do...care about me?"

"Yes, I do. Has someone ever broken a promise they made to you?" Newt asked.

Thomas looked up. "Yeah, lots of times. That's why I don't believe in promises. Even if I asked you to promise me."

"Well, I'm not like whoever broke your promises. I keep my promises," Newt said.

Thomas sniffed again, but he was done crying. He smiled again. "Promise?" he asked, before laughing.

"Yes, Tommy," Newt chuckled. "I promise to keep my promise."

"Thank you," Thomas said. "It means a lot to me."

Thomas honestly didn't know how he'd already told Newt so much. They'd only known each other for a day, and yet Thomas had already told him everything. Perhaps it was because Thomas knew Newt wasn't like the others. Thomas trusted his gut. He'd learned to. And his gut didn't tell him to run whenever Newt was nearby. His gut told him it was safe.

'Safe' was a strong word to Thomas. To most, safe meant 'home' or 'family'. But to Thomas, now, safe meant 'Newt'. He didn't know if he could live to see Newt leave him. Even after only a day, Thomas had already grown so attached to the blond. Most likely because the blond was there to hold him when he cried and he didn't leave, even after he'd spilled everything. Thomas trusted Newt with his life, literally. Newt was Thomas' lifeline, if you looked at it from the right angle.

"I have to tell you something," Thomas said seriously, looking into Newt's eyes.

"What is it, Tommy?" Newt questioned.

And Thomas took a deep breath, because Newt had to know this. Newt had to know just how much he meant to Thomas. "I almost shot myself a few days ago," he whispered.

Newt's eyes went huge, and for a minute Thomas thought Newt was having a heart attack.

"Please, tell me it was an accident, Tommy. Please," Newt pleaded- and Thomas felt so horrible for saying it wasn't.

"I wish I could, Newt. But it wasn't. And before that, over the past two years I've tried overdosing three times. I only ended up in the hospital though. And I was going to try again yesterday night. But then you helped me and I felt that I could trust you. You were... _there_ for me, and it opened my eyes," Thomas kept looking into Newt's eyes.

"What are you saying?" Newt whispered.

Thomas sighed. "You saved my life, even if you didn't mean to."

Before Newt had a chance to answer, the door opened. Newt's mom was home from work.

"Hey mom," Newt smiled, getting up to give her a hug.

"Hey, honey," his mother replied. She turned to Thomas. "I take it you're that Thomas kid Newt has been talking about?"

"Uh, yeah," Thomas blushed. Newt had talked about him to his parents? Thomas eyed Newt with a you-didn't-tell-them-anything-I-told-you-did-you look and Newt shook his head.

"Well, it's nice to meet you. I'm Kelli," she smiled, and it made Thomas' heart ache because she was just as sweet as his mother used to be.

"Hey, mom? When's dad going to get home?" Newt asked as he walked back over to Thomas.

"In a few hours. They said he'd been called in for an unscheduled meeting," she answered.

Newt nodded. "Oh, mom, it's alright if I let Thomas stay the weekend, right? I mean, his stuff is already in the guest room."

"I don't see why not," Kelli smiled. "Your father and I are going to be working late both tomorrow and Sunday so we won't be much of a pain."

"Alright. Come on, Tommy, I can show you my room," Newt smiled.

"Tommy?" Kelli questioned. "Newt, I didn't know you gave your friends nicknames. He must be _special._ "

While Newt's cheeks went a light red, Thomas' went cherry.

"Mom!" Newt complained. "Save that for when I don't have friends over!"

Newt grabbed Thomas' hand and dragged him to his room. "Sorry about her," Newt said. "She's _so_ embarrassing."

"Um, I can tell." Thomas looked around Newt's room. There wasn't much besides his bed, a desk, and lots of bookshelves.

"Yeah, it's kind of empty in here," Newt said. "I don't spend much time in my room, ya know? My parents are always at work so technically the whole house is my room."

Thomas sighed. "Your mom reminds me of my mom. My mom was always teasing me," he smiled at the memory.

Newt looked to Thomas. "You alright?"

"Gotta be, don't I? I try not to think about her. I only remember the good stuff," Thomas said.

Newt sat on his bed while Thomas sat at Newt's desk chair. "No, Tommy. You don't have to be okay. You're going to have to stop fooling yourself one day."

"I know. But pretending I'm okay is better than acknowledging that I'm not," Thomas replied. "I mean, like yesterday, when I acknowledged the fact that my life was screwed, when I told you everything. I cried like a baby. I've cried at least once every day in the past three days."

"But sometimes you have to cry, Tommy. You could cry for weeks if you had to and I still wouldn't leave."

"I'm sorry," Thomas whispered. "I'm really really sorry."

"For what?" Newt asked.

"For trying to shoot myself. I mean, I didn't. Couldn't even get my finger on the trigger."

"Don't be sorry. I'm just glad you didn't die when you overdosed. Selfish as it may sound." Newt told the brunet.

Thomas groaned. It was nowhere near selfish; in fact, right now, he was glad he didn't die. And Thomas knew why. He discovered his feelings for Newt shortly after he returned home Thursday night. His eyes were still red from crying and he'd just recently told Newt everything. It'd hit him like a steam train because he wasn't expecting it. He'd gone to bed and dreamed of Newt- or, both of them together, to be specific.

Thomas had always known he was gay. He'd never told anyone but his mother, and she didn't even tell William when she was still alive. She'd accepted him and that's all he needed; his mother was his favorite person in the world. But once she died and William blamed Thomas for it, Thomas stopped believing in love. His father brought girl after girl home and that had shattered his vision of love as a young teen.

So Thomas had never expected to fall in love. And it was no wonder he always got butterflies in his stomach when he saw that brilliant smile, and it was no wonder that Newt was _always_ on the young brunet's mind. Thomas knew it was a bit too early to even think about telling Newt, and besides; he didn't have the guts to. Plus, there was that chance that Newt didn't even like guys and Thomas would never get him.

He'd only known the guy for a fucking day, and yet he was already desperate to get his hands on him. But Thomas made a deal with himself. Make it from today to the end of school without screwing things up - that was key - and he could confess his love. It was a long time away. It was only December, and school didn't let out until June. But one day was too early to confess and a year was too long.

But if Thomas could last, he'd confess it. And if he couldn't last, and accidentally spilled, then oh well. He'd just have to try his hardest not to spill.

"It isn't selfish," Thomas finally said. He smiled slightly. "I'm kinda glad I didn't die, too."

Newt smiled in return. "That's an accomplishment right there, I tell you. Would you feel comfortable eating dinner with my parents or would you rather eat in here?"

"I don't want to eat," Thomas said stubbornly. "I'll get ugly and I'll have to throw it up."

Newt frowned. Thomas hated it. "Please eat something, Tommy. You're going to get sick."

Thomas pouted. "I don't want to." He crossed his arms.

"Please, Tommy. I'll get down on my knees and bloody beg if I have to."

"Fine," Thomas gave in. "I'll eat."

\---

Newt's mom brought dinner in at around 7:30.

"Your father called and said he's on his way home, but traffic's pretty bad so he won't be home until around eight."

"Alright, thanks mom," Newt smiled and she shut the door.

Thomas stared at his plate of lasagna. It smelled delicious, but Thomas was nervous. He poked at it with his fork.

"It's okay, Tommy," Newt said through a mouthful, "Take your time."

Newt ended up finishing his before Thomas had even taken a bite.

"Please, Tommy. Eat," Newt practically begged.

And so Thomas took a small bite. Swallowed it. Then another. Swallowed it. Over and over until he'd cleared his plate. He set the empty plate on the desk.

"You did a great job, Tommy!" Newt smiled hugely.

And for Thomas, Newt's smile was most certainly worth an empty plate.

\---

It was late at night, and everyone had already gone to bed. Thomas' stomach ached. This much food wasn't normal for Thomas. He had the urge to throw up. Thomas swung his legs over the edge of the bed and quietly sneaked through the hallway and into the bathroom, just in case. He didn't want to throw up all over their guest room. That would be a huge embarrassment.

He felt like he was going to throw up and pass out at the same time. Thomas felt the familiar feeling at the back of his throat. He threw up in the toilet, and everything he'd eaten that day came out in a few rounds of vomit. He hoped he wasn't being too loud as he flushed the toilet, leaning against the wall with tiredness.

"Tommy?" Newt's hushed voice came from the other side of the door.

"Come in," Thomas groaned quietly. The door opened and Thomas had to keep himself from swooning because Newt was only in sweat pants and holy shit he was hot.

Six months was going to be a long, hard journey.

"Tommy, are you alright?" Newt asked, pulling Thomas out of his thoughts.

"Ate too much."

Newt's forehead creased with worry. "How are you feeling?"

"It all came out. Told you, I was going to throw up. And not because I wanted to either," he said as he laid his head on the blond's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Tommy. I shouldn't have made you eat."

"It's not your fault," Thomas whispered, "I just sounded so rude saying that."

Newt chuckled, lightening the mood a little. "You're okay, Tommy. You did warn me."

"You aren't the easiest person to say no to, you know. Though, you should be, considering," Thomas said, hinting at the fact that he was usually hit or abused every time he said no.

"I won't hurt you, ever," Newt said with a fierce determination.

And Thomas believed him.


	4. Build Me Up & Break Me Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Newt receives a horrible text from Thomas. More secrets are spilled and things won't be the same again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of triggers in this chapter. It's really dark and brutal. Don't worry, the others won't be as bad.  
> Don't worry. There is a lot of fluff in this chapter...  
> Also, anything stated by characters that's homophobic is NOT how I feel about this in real life.  
> Oh, hey! I'm also up for taking short stories/one-shots. Just PM/DM my Twitter, @YesIShipNewtmas! I'll do Newtmas, Thominho, or Thominewt :P

It was Sunday night. The day had been spent playing video games, while Saturday had been spent at a coffee shop, where Thomas actually managed to get something into his stomach and keep it down. It wasn't much, just a few cookies, but it was something. He'd also had a small coffee and had managed to keep that down as well. Which, of course, resulted in a lot of cheering and smiles from Newt. And that was enough for Thomas.

Thomas gathered his things into his duffel bag, making sure he had everything before heading out to the main room.

"Thanks for having me over," Thomas thanked Newt.

Newt smiled. "Of course, Tommy."

The blond pulled Thomas in for a hug and Thomas inwardly freaked out, but in a good way. Yep, he was definitely in love with Newt. There was no doubting it now.

"You did a great job, yesterday, Tommy," Newt said as he let go of Thomas. "I'm proud of you."

Thomas offered a small smile. "It was just a few cookies," he admitted, "though it was kind of hard."

"It's going to be hard, but I know you're strong enough to do it," Newt spoke. "You're stronger than you think you are."

Thomas ducked his head. He opened his mouth to say something but decided against it, not wanting to ruin the mood. So he simply said "Thanks" and adjusted his duffel bag before walking out the door. Newt had asked him if he'd wanted a ride home earlier, but Thomas decided against it. William was ought to be home, it being a Sunday night and all. Thomas' gut twisted with dread at the thought.

It was a long walk home, and Thomas kept his head down the entire way. He'd been walking for at least thirty minutes when he finally got home. Thomas crept around the side of the house and walked towards his window. It was closed. Shit. He'd have to go through the front door. But that meant William had been in his room, because Thomas had left it open on Friday evening.

"Fuck," Thomas groaned to himself. Hopefully William was asleep with Aubrey, because if not, Thomas was in for a world of trouble. Though Thomas knew from experience that he wouldn't be lucky tonight.

Thomas opened the door. Aubrey and William were most certainly awake and they were most certainly angry. His father stood up after whispering something to Aubrey. Aubrey stayed put but looked like she was about to enjoy a movie with popcorn. Thomas felt small. Incredibly small. Smaller-than-an-ant small.

"Where the fuck were you?" Thomas' father asked angrily. Thomas flinched a bit.

"Just at a friend's," Thomas replied, his voice shaky. He didn't even try to keep the fear out of it.

William was still angry. "For two days? You weren't sleeping with him like a fag, were you?"

"N-no, I wasn't! I promise!" Thomas whimpered. "We were just hanging out, I swear!"

"Prove it, tell me exactly what you did!"

Thomas flinched again. "All we did was play video games and get some coffee," he mumbled.

"Coffee?!" William roared.

Thomas yelped. "W-what's so wrong with coffee?!"

"You only go out to coffee if you're going on a date," William hissed. "I didn't raise you to be a fucking faggot!"

William hit Thomas, and the brunet's vision blurred for a second. Thomas rubbed his head, anger and fear both fighting inside of him. Thomas remembered what Newt said, about being strong. So Thomas decided to try and stand up for himself. Though he knew it was going to end badly.

"Actually, you didn't raise me at all," Thomas spat with so much anger that he surprised himself. "You've never cared for me. Only Mom did!" Thomas' eyes stung. "At least Mom didn't call me a faggot when I told her I was gay!"

William looked stunned, then angry, then stunned again. "You're telling me you told her...and she never told me?!" William was angry again.

"Yeah, she didn't. Why? Mom was a good person, William. You're just a fuck up!" Thomas' face was red with anger.

"I'm the fuck up? Try looking in the mirror, Thomas. At least I don't like dick, like you do, fucking fag!" William growled. Then he hit Thomas, and any confidence the brunet had gathered had gone flying to the floor, just like he did.

Thomas yelped again and covered his head. William hit him again, and again, and again, all over his body. Thomas cried out with each impact. William kept hitting him, over and over until Thomas was barely conscious.

"William! That's enough! Leave the poor kid alone," Aubrey finally intervened. "He's had enough! He's barely fucking conscious, what's wrong with you?!"

William turned to Aubrey. "If you have a problem with how I treat my son then you can get the fuck out."

"I'll be doing just that! Don't expect me to come back, either," Aubrey said. She grabbed her purse and went out the door, slamming it behind her.

"Go to your room, you fucking faggot," William snapped, yanking Thomas up by the arm, grabbing his duffel bag and shoving both of them into the brunet's room. William slammed the bedroom door and locked Thomas in.

Thomas heard William slam the front door. He knew that William had to vent and was probably going to hook up with a prostitute or something and he wouldn't be back for a few days. Thomas cried again, the pain was too much to bear. Not knowing what else to do, Thomas climbed in bed and cried himself to sleep again. He knew what he was going to do.

Tomorrow, Thomas was going to off himself.

\---

Thomas awoke around 11 AM, according to his alarm clock. He felt the soreness, the bruises and cuts, with every movement he took. Thomas was done. He knew he was going to screw Newt up doing this, but, he just couldn't deal with it. If all his life was going to be verbal, physical, emotional, and mental abuse, then Thomas wanted no part in this cruel world.

He picked up his phone and texted Newt. He'd gotten his phone number the day before. All he sent was a simple "Goodbye". Thomas knew Newt would know. Thomas rummaged through his side table and pulled out a bottle of pills. He was going to take all of them.

His phone was bombarded with texts from Newt. He opened them.

_11:07 AM: Tommy? What the fuck are you doing?_

_11:08 AM: OH GOD. Tommy, stay there! I'm coming over._

_11:09 AM: FUCK! Tommy, answer me!_

_11:10 AM: TOMMY!_

_11:10 AM: SHITSHITSHIT DON'T DO THIS TO ME!_

Thomas wanted to cry. He wanted to cry and cry. But he didn't. Instead, he opened the pill bottle. Well, tried to. He hadn't realized he was so _weak._ But, he guessed lack of sleep and food did that to a guy.

_11:17 AM: TOMMY?! I'm outside. Is your door unlocked?_

_11:18 AM: Fuck it, Tommy. I'm coming in!_

"TOMMY, DON'T DO IT!" Thomas heard Newt scream from the front room. The sudden yell made Thomas drop the pill bottle. The lid fell off and the pills scattered everywhere.

"Goddammit, Newt!" Thomas cried, scrambling for the pills. He'd gotten a decent amount into his mouth when Newt unlocked the door and shoved it open.

"Spit them out, Tommy! SPIT THE FUCKING PILLS OUT!" Newt had obviously been crying, whether from nervousness or fear Thomas didn't know.

Thomas shook his head violently. He was going to swallow them. He was going to die.

"So you're going to make me watch you bloody die? Is that how you want it to go?" Newt whispered.

Thomas closed his eyes tightly. He shook his head softly. Of course he didn't want it to go that way.

"Spit them out, Tommy. Please," Newt said softly. "It isn't worth it."

"I want to die, Newt," Thomas managed through the mouthful of pills, which were starting to leave a bad taste in his mouth. "I don't care anymore."

Newt choked down a sob. "Don't say that. Don't you dare say that. Remember Friday? I said I'd miss you. I meant it. And you said that was enough! Didn't you?!"

Newt was right, he had said that. And at the time, Newt was enough. But what was Thomas supposed to do, let his father beat him daily?

" _Please_ spit them out, Tommy! Please!"

The sadness of Newt's voice made Thomas want to cry again. So he spit them out all over his floor, gave Newt an angry look, and turned around, shunning the blond.

"Thank you," Newt whispered. "I'll go now."

"No," Thomas said. "Don't. Stay here. My dad won't be home for a few days anyway." He turned back around and sat on his bed, staring at the pile of spit and pills all over the floor.

Newt moved and sat next to the brunet. "Why, Tommy? You were doing so much better yesterday when you left."

"My dad beat the shit out of me, Newt. I almost fucking died because of him!" Thomas' voice raised a few octaves just within the two sentences.

Newt looked at Thomas with wide eyes. "What? Why?!"

Thomas couldn't say it. Already, his father had hated him for it. So he stayed silent.

"Tommy? Please tell me," Newt said.

"Because I'm...I'm..." Thomas couldn't speak.

"What is it? I won't get mad," Newt assured the brunet.

Thomas sighed, laughing bitterly. Newt was right! There was nothing left to lose anyhow.

Thomas looked Newt straight in the eyes. "Newt, I'm gay." There. It'd been said and done.

"Tommy. Your dad beat you because you didn't like the opposite sex?!" Newt practically shouted.

"Yeah. Why aren't you?" Thomas laughed bitterly again.

Newt looked at Thomas like he'd just grown a third leg. "Tommy, are you fucking serious right now!? I'd never hurt you. Besides, that would be a bit unfair, anyhow."

Thomas scoffed. "Oh please. I think my life is the definition of unfair. You'd only be making that truer if you hit me just like my dad did."

"Tommy, wait, you don't get my point?" Newt asked.

"What point is there to be made, anyway?" Thomas questioned, staring back at the pile of pills.

"Tommy, you are so shucking oblivious," Newt laughed, and it lightened the mood just a little bit.

Thomas tried to pout but ended up smiling. "What do you mean?" he asked, leaning his head on the blond's shoulder.

"You're telling me you don't know? Wow, and I thought I made it clear," Newt chuckled.

Thomas groaned. "Enough with the stupid riddles. Tell me what you mean."

"Tommy, have you not figured out that I'm gay too?"

Thomas froze. Wait. What?

"Wait- wait- wait, you're gay too?!" Thomas said, his eyes widened like he'd just found an amazing treasure.

"There's lots of things that point to it, Tommy." Newt smiled, amused by Thomas' reaction.

"And those are...?"

"Jeez, Tommy. You need new eyes. A) What kind of not-gay guy lets you sleep on their lap?" Newt paused a minute to smirk at Thomas' blush. "And B) How the fuck did you not see it? I've practically cuddled you since I laid eyes on you."

"Oh" was all Thomas could squeeze out through his embarrassment. Then his heart sped up and he blushed a lot darker.

"What are you thinking about over there, Red Rose?" Newt teased.

"Newt. You aren't... _flirting_ with me, are you?!" Thomas blushed harder.

Newt shrugged. "And if I was...?" He smirked again.

"Oh my fucking god you totally are aren't you?!" Thomas grinned.

"Why, got a problem with it?"

Thomas paused. "No-no-no, not at all. But, I was trying not to be a weirdo."

"Oh please, Tommy. I saw the way you looked at my abs Friday night," Newt laughed.

Thomas blushed again. "I was kind of going to wait. A long time. To tell you. But. I guess not?"

"How long, Tommy? I want to know." Newt chuckled.

"I was going to wait for six months... because I thought a day was way too short and a year was too fucking long."

"Oh my god Tommy. Have you not heard of love at first sight?" Newt snickered.

"Hey, I have. I just didn't want to be the creepy guy," Thomas admitted.

"Tommy, had you waited six months, I would've stopped you at like a week. Jesus Christ, Tommy. You really can't see how beautiful you are, can you?" Newt said, taking his wrist and tracing the scars.

"No," Thomas said. "I'm too busy looking at you, remember?"

Then, as if he couldn't wait any longer, Newt yanked Thomas over and pressed his lips against the brunet's.

And in that moment, any of Thomas' problems flew away with the wind. He didn't care about the pills on the floor, he didn't care about his stupid dad. In that moment, all Thomas cared about was Newt. It was like they fit together like matching puzzle pieces. The blond's hands tangled in Thomas' hair, preventing him from breaking the kiss.

Thomas was stunned. How did Thomas get lucky enough for Newt to love him back? Thomas had expected the chances of that to be slim. Slimmer than the chance of it raining in hell, at that. And yet, Newt loved him, if that was even fucking possible. Newt loved him, problems and all.

So he really _did_ mean it when he said he'd stay. He really _did_ mean it when he said he'd never hurt him. Thomas was beyond words. And Thomas couldn't help being so deep in love with Newt that he'd trudge through fire for him. It was like Thomas' life had a purpose again. He had a reason. All the pain; he could learn to deal with that. So long as he had Newt by his side.

They finally pulled away, and Thomas was dazed. All he could do was stare with a stupid smile on his face.

"Now did I prove my point?" Newt whispered smugly.

"Definitely," Thomas breathed, still stunned, shocked, and breathless. "I honestly did not think you'd ever love me."

Newt rolled his eyes. "Tommy, how the hell did you get so oblivious?"

Thomas laughed. "I don't know, Newt."

"Me neither. But if there's one thing I do know," Newt said, taking Thomas hand in his, "it's that we're going to be okay. Both of us. I'll make sure of that."

Thomas and Newt laid down on Thomas' bed, still holding hands. Thomas laid his head on the blond's chest. "Hey, Newt?"

"Yeah?"

"What are we supposed to do about my dad?" Thomas asked.

"I'm not sure, but trust me, we'll do something about it," Newt said.

Thomas felt very reassured. He took a deep breath and looked at Newt. And, for the first time in his life, he said "I love you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't wait any longer okay. I had to do something really cute before I died from feels. Hope y'all enjoyed the fluff :3
> 
> Also, any Houston Texans fans- We WON!!! Can I get a whoop whoop?!?!?


End file.
